Bad idea. So, so bad.
We’re so close, his body heat is radiating from him into me, the rich woodsy scent of his cologne tingling my nose and sending little bursts of arousal straight to my clit.
Shit. What am I doing? He’s hurt. And I’m standing here thinking about how much of his body is covered in tattoos. How old is he? Is it messed up that I like him even more knowing he’s older than me by a significant number of years?
“You brought me into your apartment, even though you think I might have killed someone tonight?” He puts his hands on either side of the sink, caging me in as we face the mirror, looking at each other’s reflection. When his arms press against my sides, I suck in a breath, unable to let it go as I wait for him to speak again. Somehow, I know that Xander isn’t done talking. And by the look on his face and tight jaw, I don’t think he's very happy.
“From now on, don’teverbring a man into your house unless you know and trust them. You don’t know what kind of danger is out there, sunshine. Do you understand me?”
I swallow and stare at our reflection, my mouth dry as the desert surrounding our city. “Um, I’ve never brought a man here other than when I lived with my ex. And I trust you.”
Xander makes a growl in the back of his throat as his eyes darken and his Adam’s apple bobs. “You shouldn’t.”
Probably not. But I’ve seen enough bad people in my life to know Xander isn’t dangerous. Not to me, anyway. I don’t think the rest of the world is that lucky.
I open the top drawer and pull out several first-aid items, trying to ignore the way his body feels against mine. His touch is featherlight, but it almost feels like a weighted blanket of safety wrapped around me.
When I take a step back so I can turn around, my ass brushes against him, and I swear something hard presses into my lower back. I let my head fall back so I can look up at the tortured man in front of me. “Sit on the toilet lid.”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes trained on me in the most unsettling way. Like he’s trying to figure me out. What I want totell him is to stop because if he looks too deeply, he’s not going to like what he sees.
Slowly, he shifts and lowers himself silently as I move in front of him and inwardly wince when I realize my tits are right at his eye level. That’s probably the last thing he wants in his face. I’m sure he’s used to models with beautiful, tiny bodies and minimal flaws.
It doesn’t matter. I’m just going to clean up his knuckles, then send him on his way. It’s the neighborly thing to do, considering he brought me my misdelivered mail.
Neither of us says anything as I gently move his hand under the faucet, letting the cool water wash away the dried and fresh blood from his knuckles.
“You punch things a lot,” I say softly, using a clean towel to pat his skin dry before I apply ointment and bandages. “You have callouses from this hand healing and being split open over and over.”
He doesn’t make a sound, but I feel his agreement. It’s in his eyes as he watches my face. “You look different from the other day.”
Heat spreads over my chest, up my neck, and to my cheeks. I try to concentrate on my task, but he’s making it difficult to even breathe.
“This is my work persona. It helps with tips.” I smile. “And I feel pretty good when I’m all done up like this.”
It’s silent for a second, and panic starts to edge its way in. Does he think I’m terrible because I push up my tits to help make more money?
“You look perfect both ways,” he eventually replies.
It’s only five words. Nothing over the top or coated with sugar and chocolate. But that feeling settles in my gut again, one that tells me those words are monumental coming from Xander.He means everything he says, all the way down to his core. I’ll take that any day over a sleazy liar.
After I finish adding the last bit of tape, I take a step back. “So really… Did you kill someone?”
His jaw tightens as his gaze travels up to meet mine, pinning me with his stare in the mirror. “I didn’t kill anyone tonight.”
Tonight?Does that mean he’s killed people on other nights?
Don’t say it, Quinn. Don’t ask.
“What about other nights?”
Oh, God. What the hell is wrong with me?
Xander rises, and I try to step back again, but I hit the wall instead. Stupid small bathroom.
Slowly, he reaches out and wraps a strand of my hair around his index finger while watching me closely. My heart races, and my clit throbs with need when he crowds me, making me feel small in comparison.
“I’ll never lie to you, sunshine, so make sure you really want the answers to your questions.”
